The Wanderer's Rebirth: Other Paths

It was hard to concentrate when Myra was sending out a stream of cusses, so many in fact that he wondered if the paint on the walls would peel.

Kalduin did his best to keep calm as he helped his mother attend to Joram. It wasn’t easy, as the most he’d ever had to bandage were a few scraped limbs when the play got a bit rough between the kits, or when someone had an accident. The more serious injuries had always been attended to by his seniors, [High Priests] and the like.

Intellectually, he knew that everyone bled the same colour, be they animal-kin, elves, dwarves, halflings, or humans. Even the beasts of the field, and most monsters from dungeons, all bled red. But seeing it so vibrantly as it slowly pooled under Joram really hit home.

Their host and he dared say, budding friend, had been felled in front of them before any of them could react. Well, he supposed that that was kind of the point of an ambush.

“Press this down as hard as you can when I tell you,” his mother’s voice cut through the noise in his head, instantly bringing him back to his unpleasant surroundings.

Not trusting himself to speak, he just nodded as he took the rolled-up fabric that his mother had apparently cut from Joram’s shirt, revealing in gory detail how the spear entered his chest.

He nearly lost his breakfast at the sight, affirming once again that he wasn’t made for adventuring.

“Now!” his mother suddenly barked, causing his hands to move on their own as the spear was pulled from Joram’s chest, followed by an alarming quantity of blood before his hands got into place.

He pressed for all he was worth, offering a silent prayer that Joram would survive.

Then is mother was chanting, the green light of healing casting Joram’s skin in a very unfortunate hue, making him swallow hard.

“That’s all I can do,” his mother said, shaking her head. “I’m not specialized in healing, just battlefield patching,” she finished, looking down at Joram with sad eyes.

“I saw over a score of them out there before I closed the door,” Theril said, getting their attention. “About half of them were hobs,” he finished, looking a bit grim.

Kalduin could understand why. Those were each at least a Rank E threat, mostly in Rank D though. Which meant that there were likely ten or so hobs that could individually give Theril a run for his money.

“I knew I should have brought Nalun along,” his mother growled.

Even though his mother was higher level than his father, she had a support Path, while his father might have been a [Spear Hunter], it was at least more geared towards combat than not.

“I’ll burn each and every one of those walking wart bags,” Myra growled as her eyes shone with magic.

“You’ll do no such thing,” their mother snapped, causing Myra’s jaw to set stubbornly. “We’ll need to make this area a chokepoint for when they eventually break down the door. That’ll be our only hope of surviving a war band like that,” she said, already looking for things with which to barricade the door.

Kalduin also began looking around, not sure what they could use. For as large as the table was, it didn’t look very heavy, or solid. Nor did the bookshelf. He was thinking about using the white chest-like thing beside the comfortable-looking chair, when the door rattled from a great impact.

“They’ve got a battering ram,” Theril said, likely for his and Myra’s benefit. “I suggest preparing any spells you can for when a hole gets made,” he said, strapping on his shield.

“Get back,” his mother said, motioning for them go get out of the way as she grabbed Joram’s foot and began unceremoniously dragging him out of the way. Myra looked scandalized before coming to herself at the same time that he did. They both quickly grabbed an arm each to help their mother move faster.

Down the hall, they found that the door opposite them seemed to be Joram’s room, as there was a large bed in there, amongst other unusual oddities that they didn’t have time to inspect before being ushered out by their mother.

Back in the living room, the pounding continued on the door, making a racket sufficient to raise the dead.

“Now, I need you and Myra to stand over there,” Theril said, directing his mother and sister to stand behind the now upended table, Joram’s odd items scattered across the floor at the base of the wall, along with the study materials they’d left him. “Kal, I’ll need you to be ready to heal me if I take any hits,” he said, then motioned where he expected him to stand.

“What? Mom’s much better than I am with healing,” he stammered, but stopped when Theril glared at him.

“Yes, but she can also use offensive spells,” he said, pointing at where his family was readying themselves. “No time for arguing,” he said, then lightly pushed him into place.

They didn’t have to wait long before the first splintered hole appeared around the battering ram. Fortunately, the bands of metal seemed to have mostly kept the hole plugged, preventing any arrows or spears from immediately being sent their way.

Theril finally drew his sword, still staring at the door with ears drawn back. He heard his mother quietly instructing his sister on when to cast her spells. It was a surreal moment for him. He hadn’t ever thought he’d be in a situation like this, as he’d planned on basically staying safe inside of Kirkwall for the rest of his life.

Then the hole was widened further with the next several impacts, making him wince with each one. That’s when the spells started flying.

* * *

Joram woke up in incredible pain, barely able to breath. Confused, he reached to his chest and found that it was incredibly tender before he started coughing. Coughing that led to blood spattering across his blankets, finally reminding him of what had happened as he pushed a System notification out of the way.

Cursing himself for being such and idiot, he reached for [Natural Healing] and augmented it as much as he could before releasing it. He felt his body react instantly, the pain fading away while the dimpling on his chest smoothed out. But that didn’t clear his lungs, and he began another coughing fit, this time dislodging more clotting blood than before.

As he caught his breath, the pounding finally registered, along with the sounds of fighting.

‘Welcome back,’ Avi said, giving him a nod. ‘I think it’s about time you start using [Inertial Armour] and probably [Force Screen] as well,’ she said, starting pointedly at his bare chest.

He just grunted his reply, which caused another coughing fit as he tried to pull up [Inertial Armour] to see if he could even understand it sufficiently to use it. He was also silently cussing himself out for having completely forgotten about those two basic defensive Powers. The fact that [Inertial Armour] would last for hours per manifester level really should have made it to the top of his list of things to keep going.

Then more shouting came from the living room, but this time he heard the sound of goblins yammering away as they attacked his guests.

“Light-blasted goblins again,” he growled, deciding to go for broke and attempting to manifest [Inertial Armour] with as may power points as he could manage.

It didn’t flow as well as he would have liked, but the power manifested, causing a brief ripple before becoming invisible once again.

Then more breaking sounds came, cutting his time short. He quickly grabbed his katana before stepping out of the bedroom as he drew the blade. When he came out of his bedroom though, he saw quite the mess, angering him further.

Not only had the goblins come again, but they’d come when his guests were there, causing them to fight for their lives with what was at hand, and his table had been one such thing. His laptop, monitor, printer, tablet, phone, books, and other miscellaneous items had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor so that they could use his table as a barrier against the attacking goblins.

“Move,” he said, pushing past a shocked Celys on his way to the door where he found his shoes and quickly emptied them of debris before sliding them on.

“How?” he heard Kal ask, but ignored the frightened kid as Theril tried to block the massive hole in the door with his shield.

Joram looked down and found that the goblins had apparently been hurling rocks along with their arrows, so he picked one up and hefted it.

“Move when I say move,” he growled, staring at the large hole in his door what was being made larger by the second.

“Stand back,” Theril said, not bothering with him as he tried to keep the view of the goblins limited.

“Move!” Joram shouted, startling the man enough to turn and see that he’d taken up a major league pitcher’s stance, rock in hand.

Theril quickly shifted out of the way in time for Joram to throw for all he was worth. The stone, which probably weighted a kilo, flew through the hole and caused a wet crunching sound. Joram immediately dropped to the ground, avoiding the return fire before Theril could get his shield back up and in the way.

‘Try using [Biofeedback],’ Avi suggested, once again reminding him of yet another staple of a Power.

And since it was a Psychometabolism Power, it would likely go easier for him than other powers. Well, he guessed that it would be due to how easily [Natural Healing] came to him, but couldn’t quite be sure.

With another mental shrug, he pulled up [Biofeedback] and just went with it.

He once again poured as many power points in as he could, hoping that the added damage reduction would help keep him alive through the encounter. This time, though, it felt smoother, as though his body wanted to respond to the Power as it hardened his body.

He grinned, then. Thinking about how much hurt he could lay down on those damned goblins before they could take him out. Or maybe he’d get lucky and take them out first. But he wouldn’t hold his breath for that.

Instead of unbarring he door and running out there half-cocked, the looked over his shoulder at the two women.

They were still staring at him in shock, mouths moving without sound coming out of them.

They’ll be fine, he thought, then turned back to the door, still crouched down.

It took another several hits before more of the door was bashed in, leaving the hole large enough for a goblin to feel brave enough to try its luck with a spear.

The probing weapon was mostly kept at bay by Theril’s shield, so Joram crept a bit closer, making sure to stay down and low. Once he was right at the door, he waited for the next jab to send the spear over his head. Another few seconds passed as he grew more nervous, then the spear came.

He reached out and grabbed it with his left hand, then pulled for all he was worth. The hapless goblin came shrieking at the door as it tried to pull its spear back, but too late.

Theril’s sword shot forward, connecting with the goblin in such a way that the shrieking stopped and the resistance on the spear vanished. He wished he could have seen it, but contented himself with the spear instead.

“Here,” he said, tossing the spear crosswise to the two hiding women.

Celys caught the spear, but then handed it to Myra a second later as he turned back to the door breaking door as the battering ram smashed another piece of the door in, reducing his cover to the point where he didn’t quite feel as comfortable where he was anymore.

But as he was about to move, a spark shot over his head and Myra yelled. “Duck!”

So, he did. He flattened himself on the debris covered floor just as a loud boom set his ears to ringing.

Joram quickly picked himself up enough to take a peek outside and grinned. The goblins were in disarray, burning, running, and screaming as they tried to get out of the burning underbrush and put out their burning clothing.

“Good timing,” he said, but in english, not thinking about his guests anymore.

He quickly got to his feet, then slipped out of the large hole in the door, noting how the metal scraping on his skin didn’t even leave a mark behind. Once outside, he brought his katana up, then down onto the closest goblin as he heard his guests yelling for him to get back inside.

Given his mood, he did what he thought was best and ignored them as he stepped over to the next goblin that was trying to extinguish its burning loincloth. Another swing resulted in another dead goblin, this one missing its head.

Then he stepped up to his first hob as it tried to put out its hair. The thing was almost as tall as he was, but fatter than he thought would be possible to still move around like that. Remembering that fat was a surprisingly good armour, Joram instead chose to take a swing at the hob’s unprotected knee.

Gritting his teeth a bit, Joram crouched a bit as he swung two-handed and as horizontally as he could at the hob’s knee. The thing noticed him a bit too late as Joram’s sword first connected with his knee, then passed through it with disturbing ease, severing the limb completely and spraying blood across the ground.

The hob, bellowed in pain as it toppled, attracting the attention of yet more goblins.

Joram decided to let the hob bleed out as he was rushed by several smouldering goblins. He quickly stood back up and stepped back a bit as the first goblin thrust its spear at him. Fortunately, the spear glanced off his [Inertial Armour], leaving it open for a swing of his own.

His sword took off its arm, causing yet more noise and three more closed in, stabbing.

For as good as Avi was at training him, he’d only practiced dodging from one direction at a time. So it was that two of the goblins scored hits, but didn’t manage to do more than cut his pants.

[Biofeedback], for the win! He thought, a grim smile on his face as he let go of his katana with one hand to grab the last goblin to hit him.

The thing felt… gross. It had warts all over its body, causing him to cringe a bit as he tugged the goblin closer and onto the curved blade of the katana. He then jerked his katana to the side, opening up the goblin’s bowels and releasing them to fall onto the forest floor, while also raising an unbelievable stench that nearly had him gagging.

The other two goblins weren’t idle though. They quickly flanked him as they continued jabbing at him with their spears, trying to repay the favour he’d dealt their friend.

Then a spear lanced through the goblin’s throat to his right, leaving him an opening as the one to his left gaped a bit. Another slash practically bisected the green menace before he turned to see that Theril had also squeezed out of the door while both Celys and Myra looked out of the hole in the door.

Myra pointed, and a ray of bright fire took a recovered hob in the belly, lighting its fat on fire and sending it wailing into the forest. Another few hobs were still left, though, so he cautiously made his way over to stand by Theril as he battled with another hob.

Then an arrow glanced off his armour, reminding him that goblins also tended to have archers. But just as he was picking up a spear to throw at the little bugger, a spear of stone erupted from the ground underneath it and impaled it from groin right through to its neck where it burst out of its shoulder.

Grim, he thought, but then put that out of his mind as the first hob arrived, its club already swinging for his head.

He quickly ducked under the swing, but was caught off guard by the heel of its foot as it connected with his chest, sending him back over a metre to fall on his back, a bit winded.

He was suddenly very glad that he’d gone for broke with [Biofeedback], as a hit like that might have otherwise broken a few ribs. Quickly scrambling to his feet, he realized that he’d lost his grip on his sword and cursed.

‘Maybe learning the ways of the Soulknife will take a priority now?’ Avi asked, standing over where he’d lost his sword.

‘If you can unlock that information for me, then sure,’ he sent right back, sarcasm heavy in the sending.

Avi stuck her tongue out at him, shocking him just as a flood of information caused his vision to blur. He staggered back, figuring that the hob would try to capitalize on the opening, and felt the thing’s club glance off his ribs.

By the time his vision cleared, the information had settled down enough to him to attempt to manifest a [Soulblade].

It came more naturally than he thought it would, the blade materializing in his hand, shocking him more than a little bit and making the hob back up uncertainly.

In his hands was a perfect replica of Cloud Strife’s Buster Sword in all of its six-foot glory. Though, he noticed that instead of being made of metal, it was a translucent crystalline blue and felt as comfortable in his hands as if it had always been with him.

He just hoped that it would be stronger than crystal.